An Enigmatic After
by C0v3n
Summary: Violet has finally begun to settle into her new life- but can she protect her family?
1. Chapter 1

As the rain pittered and pattered softly against the windows, Violet rested her face against the cold glass. She liked to keep to her room, sometimes staying in there for weeks at a time. Her mother didn't bother her, nor did her father, they gave her eternity to think and relax the idea of forever. However, eternity had not been kind, much less the 4 years she'd been long dead. After the first few days Violet had picked the razors back up from their intimidating shadows. After weeks they began to rust and she left them alone.

Time was no longer felt, but she counted. Violet etched the passing hours in her head, never losing a second. Why she needed to keep track did not make sense to her, but Vi felt it to be very important. Sometimes in the waking hours of the day, she'd blame her guilty conscious. It was a damned thing, her mind. How she hated it so. On some occasions, she'd smash her head until she could no longer move. Though, is was through time that Violet moved on and began to entertained herself by looking out her bedroom window. Or at least, the room she claimed as hers.

Once the rain cleared, the clouds moved out and allowed the sun some space. Rays shined on Violet's face and she winced, adjusting to the sudden brightness. Sometimes she'd close her eyes to try and allow the sun to take her away. When she was younger, Vivien would tell her daughter that the bright rays of sun you sometimes see are paths of people going into the "inevitable other," as she called it. The light would never reach Violet, for the house would not allow it. How she wished to leave.

Finally leaving the continuing thought in her mind, Violet removed herself from the window and wandered out from the room. The stairs made her arrival to the bottom floor more dramatic than she desired, but somewhere deep inside, the attention felt nice. Chad and Patrick sat in the living room, looking quietly at nothing. A fine example of what this house had become- quiet people who are no longer anything. Somehow, the silence had reached even little Jeffrey. As Violet walked into the kitchen, Nora sat at a bar stool and played with her thumbs, implicating that even after rejecting the child, she wishes to care for it. Violet often compared the woman to a younger version of herself, one where she would constantly become bored of her new toys, only to wish them back after receiving new ones. Forgetting why she even came into the room, Violet walked out and went back upstairs to recollect herself after having hoped for some sort of change in the mood.

There were new words written on the chalkboard, as there were often. Sometimes by Violet herself, and sometimes by... Him, but she would not longer accept his presence. Pushing the thought away, Vi lifted her hand and wiped it across the board as she walked by, not caring to see what it read at all. She returned to her bed, sighing rather dramatically. Today, just as many others have been, was very unsuccessful.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the efforts Violet made in talking to Moira, the old woman made very little conversation. She often seemed like something else was surrounding her. Growing annoyed by the old woman's disconnection, Violet moved out of the kitchen and fumbled with the door, and rested in the shade of the gazebo.

Soon, Vi began to feel him getting closer. He normally followed her around, unseen. It was everyday that her dead lover would stalk her, and caress her in his dark mind. It was weird at first, but Violet later became used to the reality of his hurting. Dare she say, Tate would continue to haunt her until a permanent force stopped him.

Just before she closed her eyes, Violet heard cars pulling up into the drive way of the house. Tate soon left, and so did she, but reappeared in the window that faced the front lawn. She only jumped when necessary, otherwise Vi preferred the "old fashioned" way.

Two men stepped out of a sleek black car that, if anything, was vintage. Behind them, Marcy pulled up in a new Honda. _No_, Violet thought, _anything but new house owners! _One of the men, who was wearing a black leather jacket, walked to the front door and waited for his companion and the realtor. The other man in a sandy jacket scanned the outside of the house and pointed at some details, showing the other specific things. Marcy rushed passed him and opened the door to the hell house. Violet turned around and sat at the top of the staircase, making sure she wouldn't be seen. The group down below stopped just at the mouth of stairs.

The men shook Marcy's hand, telling her their names. Dean was the shorter one in leather, while Sam was taller and in the sand-colored jacket. The woman touched the wood, "The house has all of its original wood and glass- real Tiffany, too. The builder modeled them after butterflies, saying the color matched his wife's eyes. Oh, and before I forget, I am required to inform you that, um, the previous owners passed while in this house."

"Wonderful," Dean started, "Sammy here has an intense fetish for haunted houses."

"Lucky for Sam, then," Marcy nodded, being slightly disturbed and slightly relieved. She tapped her chin, "Oh, my- I forgot something in the car! Why don't you boys look around while I go get it?" She rushed out and left the two. "Alright, you take bottom and I'll take top," Dean said. Sam nodded and they split.

Violet rushed to a corner, making herself invisible to the man walking up the staircase. _There's something off about these men_, Violet said to herself. Dean climbed up the stairs, heaving a deep sigh. "They weren't kidding when they said this place was creepy," he grunted. Finally reaching the top, he turned to the left and walked down the hall.

While he investigated each room, Marcy came back in, "Hello? I'm back!"

Sam answered, "We're just looking. Dean's upstairs."

Walking out the master bedroom, Dean walked to the banister and made known to her where he was. As he turned around, he shouted, "Son of a bitch!"

Marcy called out to him, "Are you all right?"

"Fine, I'm fine," he said as he stood face-to-face with Hayden. "Wonderful," she cackled, disappearing before he could do anything else. Dean shot down the stairs calling out for Sam, and Violet followed him down, remaining invisible.

"What?" Sam asked as he returned to the stairs. Dean looked him in the eye, then to Marcy, "I think we'll take the house."

"Oh!" She exclaimed, "Well, let's head to the office and get everything settled out."

They walked out and Violet became visible again as soon as the door closed. "Mom," she shouted, "Mom!"

"I'm here," Vivien said. Violet turned around and saw everyone. Her mother continued, "and we can't allow them to live here."

Chad interrupted, "Personally, I think some new men in this house would do us wonders, especially for Patrick over here."

Ben glared at them, "Vivien is right, we can't allow them here. No more death." Chad rolled his eyes, sighing with dissatisfaction.

"Hayden appeared in front of one of them," Violet claimed, catching everyone's attention, "and disappeared. I don't understand why they'd still want the house. Something isn't right with these guys."

"True," Moira replied, "they seem to want something more than a house to live in."

"What do we do, then?" Violet asked.

"Scaring won't work, and I'll bet that real horror wouldn't, either. Anyone?" Vivien insisted.

Breaking the long silence, Chad remarked, "Oh, this will be fun."


	3. Chapter 3

"The house was built by Dr. Charles Montgomery for his wife, Nora. Dr. Montgomery used to perform abortions on stars who didn't want trouble in his basement. One boyfriend found out and took Thaddeus, the Montgomery son. A baby for a baby. He then returned their son in jars, chopped up into pieces. Overwhelmed with grief, Nora shot her husband for shooting herself."

"So are we dealing with a vengeful spirit?" Dean asked.

"I don't know, maybe. The next reported death was of Maria and Gladys, two young nurses, who were murdered by R. Franklin. Umm, oh, here's another. Tate Langdon was shot down in his room after returning from his school, where he committed mass murder. Then a man named Chad Warwick

beat his boyfriend, Patrick, before taking his own life."

Sam took a deep breath before continuing, "The Harmons were the last people to have lived there. Vivien Harmon died after giving birth, Ben Harmon committed suicide. Their daughter, Violet, ran off with the child."

"That house has some problems," Dean snorted sarcastically.

"You're not going to believe this."

"What?"

"The mother of Tate Langdon, a woman named Constance, moved out of the house only to move into the one next door."

"No freakin' way," a smile lit across his face.

"Well, I'd say we should go meet our neighbors." The two gathered their belongings and left the motel, heading straight for their new home.

_((Something I forgot to mention, that's really important. Someone had bought the house and made it available for rent, so Sam and Dean paid for the first month to get rid of the ghosties. I know that doesn't really make sense, sorry about that.))_

The smell of the house had not changed since the last time they had been. Marcy left them just over half an hour ago, wishing them luck.

"We've got this place for a month," Dean acknowledged, "let's not be here for that long." They turned around, and just as Dean was about to open the door, there was a knock.

"It's your new neighboy, Constance. I baked you boys some fresh cupcakes." Shock rose in their faces.

Opening the door and faking a smile, Dean spoke, "Hi, I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam. "Sam looked at the boy standing behind Constance, he felt something wrong about him, but could not place his finger on it. The young boy gave him an eerie smile, flashing pearl white teeth.

Constance took notice, "Oh, this is my son Michael. He's such an angel."

Remembering from earlier, Dean asked, "Ms., um?"

"Langdon."

"Right, Ms. Langdon, have you ever had any other children?"

"Oh yes, my dear daughter, Adelaide, passed away four years ago. My oldest son, Tate, was murdered."

"Murdered?" Sam blurted.

"Yes, the government thinks they're good, but my Tate was as harmless as a butterfly."

"Sorry to hear about that, Ms. Langdon."

"My my, that makes me feel so old, please call me Constance. I like it better. Oh, and take these cupcakes, will you? My arm is becoming sore."

Sam took the plate from her, making an uneasy smile.

"Well, it's been a pleasure, Constance. Sammy and I better get back to unpacking."

"Unpacking? But I don't see any packages anywhere."

Hesitating, Dean replied, "It's all in the kitchen. We didn't bring much."

"Oh, well alright. See you boys later," Constance turned around and took Michael's hand. They walked down the driveway and back to their house.

Violet hid well in the empty kitchen. She had overheard the whole conversation and had become more furious of Constance. _Bullshit, all bullshit_, she thought. There has to be a way to let these guys know that she isn't telling the whole truth. Vi didn't understand why she felt it necessary to tell them, but Sam and Dean seemed like they wanted something from the house, or to even solve something. She jumped to her old bedroom, and wrote on the chalkboard.

_He is not hers,_

_He is not even human._


End file.
